


Lady Lazarus

by lesbiankarlmarx



Category: Frankenstein - Mary Shelley
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Except Henry, F/F, Friends to Lovers, LESBIAN RIGHTS, Lesbians, No Lesbians Die, Sapphic, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, classic literature, elizabeth is smarter than victor because i said so, f/f - Freeform, i kind of hate every man in this book, justine does not die, mary shelley didn't do the ladies justice, maybe i'll mention victor/clerval idk, maybe smut idk, random 12:19am burst of motivation, these lesbians are NOT useless, wlw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:40:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24316696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbiankarlmarx/pseuds/lesbiankarlmarx
Summary: What happens if Elizabeth Lavenza saves Justine Moritz from execution and they run away together?
Relationships: Elizabeth Lavenza/Justine Moritz
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	Lady Lazarus

Elizabeth escaped to the gallows behind the court well after midnight. It was dark and screaming cold, but she knew Geneva well and wore a cape over her nightgown. Victor had taken up the habit of wandering after dark early in his youth, and beyond a stern look from Alphonse, no one in the household seemed to mind. Elizabeth figured nothing too bad would come of it, especially if she was discreet. And she was. She tiptoed down the spiral staircase in her nightgown, pausing to mime getting herself a glass of water, in case Alphonse were awake to wonder about footsteps. He was often up late, or fell asleep in the library, and his insomnia was much more likely to infect him now. Victor, however, was surely in his bedroom, which he had scarcely left since his arrival, despite his dear affection for Geneva. Elizabeth left through the back door, wielding a knife in her fist, which also hiked up her petticoats. 

It seemed a cruel thing to build a gallows behind a court - mockingly convenient. As if every visitor must become acquainted with his fate before the deed had been announced. Naturally, the scene was quiet, betraying only the crackling of twigs beneath Elizabeth's feet and leaves rustling in the wind. Nature was not so quiet, if one truly listened, and the sounds of nature were better than silence. This is how it should be, she thought. Faint footsteps on grass and stone, no voices, no lanterns. The moon was bright enough to light her way, and amidst all the anguish and terror of the waking hours, she felt peaceful. There was no one expecting her to act like a mother or win a court case. It was just Elizabeth and the wind in the hours following dusk.

The first part of the plan was completed within the hour; approaching the noose and snagging it with an outstretched hand, Elizabeth slashed halfway through the rope, leaving the appearance of a normal noose, but whose rope would break with any pressure. It was not certain to work, but it gave Elizabeth the hope that the execution could falter. 

The knife was stashed in her drawer, behind letters and handkerchiefs, out of sight but readily accessible. In the morning, Elizabeth powdered her face pale, mussed her hair, and let her face grow red from weeping without dabbing at it with a handkerchief. 

First, she wept over memories of Justine - the rope swing beyond the lake, doing their chores in tandem, mornings in the library with coffee and novels. The executioner feigned sympathy, but his pen tapped impatiently on his desk, and she moved on to begging, feeling tears cloud her vision and the colors bleed together in anonymous droplets of brown, green, and white. 

Please, postpone the hanging. If only I can have one day to mourn her, to visit her, to comprehend this loss. I will accept her as my brother’s killer only when she is dead, when her body falls on the soft dirt. It must be at night. I will attend; you will see me there. Somehow, the man succumbed. 

He was growing uncomfortable with her tears. Elizabeth often relied on men underestimating her.

True to her word, Elizabeth visited her friend beside Victor. “I wish that I were to die with you,” she said. She leaned in close and whispered to Justine to not be surprised if something went wrong and she had to run. Justine softened, for she had heard these words before. Run, Elizabeth said when Victor fell into the trap they had set with leaves and grass and a poorly hidden hole dug a foot deep. Run, when the armchair in the library hugged them close, the stiff sides of their corsets colliding, and Victor coveted the book they shared. He chased them into the kitchen and stood tall, but Justine had a terribly menacing face, the freckles below on her chin stretching with its frown. Run, at fourteen, when the tree trunk against Elizabeth’s back was familiar, and so were Justine’s lips, but this time they were urgent and breathy and Elizabeth felt it between her thighs. Run, because she wanted to be out of breath again and not have to say anything. She didn’t know what she would say when Justine stopped kissing her, so she said run. 

Night came as it often did in springtime. The descending sun hid behind bushes until evening strolls were half-over, finally giving way to dusk as doors clicked shut. Alphonse couldn’t bear to accompany his children, but he was awfully conflicted. He wouldn’t say it, but he feared his neglect would again cause a murder. Victor would not speak to Elizabeth on the way to the courthouse, and there was far too much anticipation and anxiety coursing through her to compel him to. The gallows were silent. Justine’s arms were pinned to her side, and she was flanked by the executioner. It was all fluid: her neck slipped through the rope, which held for a quiet moment, then gave way to her weight and plunged her onto the dirt. For a moment, it seemed no one had noticed the girl on all fours on the ground but Elizabeth. All but the whites of her eyes was cloaked in darkness as she ran, kicking dust behind her. 

Before she got her breath back, Elizabeth took off behind her, clenching the knife between her knuckles.


End file.
